


Memory

by Jubalii



Series: London Nights [3]
Category: Hellsing
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships, Memory Magic, Memory Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubalii/pseuds/Jubalii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seras thinks that she remembers the night she died in perfect detail, but Alucard seems to recall something a little different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory

            Seras slammed the brush down on her vanity, glowering at her reflection in the mirror. “Damned hair!” she swore, pouting as she ran a hand through the frizzy locks. It was being as unmanageable as always, and it was days like this she thanked her lucky stars that it would always be naturally short, now that she was a vampire.

            Of course, she could have looked into growing it using her powers, had it ever occurred to her to do so. Alucard’s ebony tangles changed constantly with his moods, up to the point where she was used to him sporting at least two different hairstyles in a night. It was something so simple that it was subconscious for him to do it. If he became frustrated, it spilled over his shoulders so he could tug at it as he thought. If he was fighting, it became short and unruly so that he could see what he was doing as he battled.

            But Seras didn’t really want long hair. Oh, sure; she loved the look of it, and peering at magazines full of women with long, shining locks made her long for something like that of her own. But as flyaway and thick as hers was, it would be a daily hassle of brushing, conditioning, and ripping through knots. That was too much work, all for the price of waist-length hair.

            “Maybe I should just chop it all off and go around bald,” she muttered unhappily, scowling at the tangled bedhead she still donned. Really, was it too much to ask for nice hair that detangled easily and fell neatly into position? It was times like this she wanted to say “screw it” and walk around with a wig or a very large hat.

            “Why would you do that?” Startled, Seras jumped in her chair, a hand flying up to cover her heart even though the organ had been silent and unmoving for over fifty years now. She recognized the voice and relaxed just as quickly, even as adrenaline coursed through her body; she’d been hearing that voice for over fifty years, too.

            Alucard had decided to join her and had taken over her bed for himself. At a point in time she had petitioned Integra for a “real” bed to sleep in again, since she drank blood every night. Integra had agreed and let her custom order the furniture from one of Hellsing’s many wholesale suppliers. King-sized, the bed was still in a coffin shape and even went down into the floor, along with a motorized lid that covered her protectively while she slept the day away. Beneath the fluffy mattress was a layer of unneeded, but much appreciated rejuvenating soil that was replaced bi-monthly.

            He had left his hat, coat, and glasses behind and was sprawled out on top of the coverlet like he owned the damn thing. She couldn’t help but appreciate his lean form, even though with his leg curled up comfortably he did resemble an oversized grasshopper. _No, grasshoppers are daylight insects_ , she thought amusedly. _He’s must be a cricket, I guess._ A smile flickered across her lips and didn’t go unnoticed.

            “What are you laughing about?” he asked curiously, head tilting slightly as he studied her. She shook her head, grateful that he couldn’t hear her thoughts anymore. Even though it had been a year and a half since she’d stopped being his servant, she still caught herself watching what she contemplated around him; after all, she had gone years with him dropping in to listen to her mind at the most inopportune moments.

            “Oh, it’s nothing you’d be concerned with,” she said truthfully. He wouldn’t care one way or the other if she was comparing him to a cricket. If he had heard it, he might have good-naturedly teased her about the silliness of her meditations, but most likely he’d have let the opinion pass without comment. “And I’d cut all my hair off because it would save me time getting ready each day,” she added half-sarcastically. “Less money wasted on shampoo, too.”

            “Your hair was one of the first things I’d ever noticed about you,” he admitted in a rare burst of spontaneity. She blinked at him in surprise.

            “My hair?” she repeated, one hand fingering the fringe of her bangs. “Really? How come?”

            “How come, indeed,” he muttered, almost to himself. His expression became contemplative. “I suppose it just made an impression, glowing in the light of the moon that night.” He turned his gaze to her again. “That was a truly beautiful night,” he declared and she felt herself blush, though she couldn’t put her finger on _why_ the sentence made her feel bashful.

            “If you say so,” she replied offhandedly. “I don’t remember it being very beautiful at all.” She turned back to the mirror and picked up the brush, tugging it through her hair again with single-minded purpose. “You know, I don’t think I can remember a night being more… _awful_ , really. Even when the Nazis attacked, I wasn’t as terrified as that night.”

            “You and I must remember different things about it, then.” She heard the bedclothes rustle and he moved into the mirror’s reflection, sitting up with one arm slung over his knee casually. She met his eyes through the mirror, and something smoldered there before he blinked and it was quickly hidden. She turned around, one arm dangling over the back of her chair as she frowned at him.

            “What _do_ you remember?” she asked hesitantly, curious but at the same time not wanting to know the answer. She didn’t understand why she didn’t want to know, exactly; some small part of her told her that Alucard might have taken a particular sadistic pleasure in the destruction of a sleepy village. He grinned at her, fangs glistening wetly in the light of her wall sconces.

            “You hair,” he retorted scathingly, grin widening even more. “And the taste of your blood, of course.” He licked his lips mockingly and she shuddered despite herself.          

            “Ugh.” She turned back around, trying to shake the nervous thrill that crept through her veins. She really didn’t want to think about someone’s teeth in her throat. Particularly a certainsomeone who would still jump at the chance, should she ever offer it again.

            “More like “mmm”, Police Girl,” he continued to tease. “You had a very subtle flavor. Mild, yet pleasing to the palate.” Great, now he was talking about her like she was a dish at a 5-star restaurant. She ignored him, still mechanically running the brush through her hair, even though the snarls had finally been banished.

            “Oh, just forget I ever asked,” she finally growled, sulking as she threw down the brush again and put her chin in her hands, gazing steadfastly at her face in the looking glass. She hated it when he teased her so relentlessly. She couldn’t even think of good comebacks half the time.

            “There _is_ a way you could see exactly what I remembered,” he offered, tone sly. She tried to give him the cold shoulder, but in the end her curiosity won over and the turned halfway in the chair to look at him.

            “How?” she asked, already kicking herself. When he got cunning like this, it was a dangerous road to go along with him. But his countenance was serious, and she was a little reassured. Perhaps he wasn’t tricking her after all.

            “Through my blood,” he nearly purred back at her. “Don’t you remember my interrogation technique?” She rolled her eyes. _Some technique_ , she thought. Drain them, get a meal and information at the same time, and no one’s worse for wear. It’s like saying that going to sleep every day was her “revitalization technique”.

            “I remember.” She frowned at him. Didn’t he recall that she had absorbed the Captain’s soul, and that he was her familiar now? When she had drank his blood, she’d also gotten his memories too. At the time, she’d been too busy fighting off that Nazi bitch to look closely, and afterwards she’d considered it a breach of his privacy to just barge in and sort through his personal life like he wasn’t even there, though she was sure he wouldn’t have minded.

            “It’s the same thing, only with a single memory and not an entire soul’s worth,” he explained, shaking back his sleeve. The skin between his glove and the cuff of his shirt was nearly as white as they were, he was so pale. She watched him bite down, crimson beads welling up and sliding down his skin. He leaned forward, offering it to her with a gleam in his eye. “Tell me, Seras; are you brave enough to relive that night again, through my eyes?” When she didn’t answer right away, he grinned. “Lick it.” She wrinkled her nose at him.

            “You and your kinks,” she grumbled, and he chuckled darkly at the joke. She reached forward and swiped her fingers down his wrist, smearing red but not losing a single drop. She looked at him and raised her hand in a mock-toast before closing her eyes and licking the blood from her fingertips. The taste was familiar, although unlike her blood apparently was, he was not mild in the slightest. It was almost spicy, sparking with energy and an undercurrent of metallic flavor. It wasn’t bad, in terms of taste, but it _was_ a little overpowering.

            Then, all at once, the memory was there in her mind.

* * *

            Seras looked up at the moon in the sky, surrounded by clouds and stars and yet not obscured in the slightest. It had a strange tint to it that cut the glare and glossed over the clouds, and Seras realized that she was seeing it the way Alucard saw it through his sunglasses.

            “How beautiful,” she found herself saying quietly. “Nights like this make me want to have a bite to drink.” Blinking in surprise at the words, she found herself almost torn. On one hand, she knew that she was Seras Victoria, and she was a female vampire with all her memories intact. But at the same time she was _also_ Alucard, and had a glimpse of _his_ memories and experiences. It was truly seeing the world through another’s eyes. And while the Seras side wanted to look around and explore a bit, the Alucard side was pushing her onward.

            “Yes,” she said to herself matter-of-factly as she stared up at the moon. “I couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening.” And with that she went into the woods; she knew Cheddar lay just on the other side of the copse of trees. She felt the difference in Alucard’s gait compared to her own, the sounds of his clothing brushing together, the feel of his gloves.

            But more than that, she finally got to see what it was like to _be_ him. She could feel the occult power of the Hellsing family pulling on his abilities, keeping them chained back until he was allowed to use them. She could feel his age and power the way he did, and the knowledge that came with both. She saw how much more powerful his senses were; he could hear the frightened burble of the policemen back at the base camp, see the most minute details on the leaves and bark of the trees, notice changes in his environment based on the very air itself. It astounded her; this was how he felt every day!

            _Keep focused_. This was Integra’s voice, in her mind. She started in alarm, but then remembered that Alucard had been linked to Integra too. She felt foolish that she’d forgotten about it.

She continued through the forest, occasionally stumbling onto some Ghouls and dispatching them with quiet efficiency. She listened for the frightened screams of humans, and once she heard a child’s desperate shout, but the Alucard side paid no more attention to it than he would a child’s laughter. He’d heard thousands of doomed children screaming for their mothers before; he was callous enough that it no longer affected him, if it ever _had_ affected him. Besides, the cry was from far off, and it was the sound of someone who had already given up. By the time he got there, it would have been far too late.

The heartlessness of this kind of thinking caught her by surprise. She knew that he could be cold and emotionless, but the indifferent dismissal of a child’s terror was a little extreme, even for him. Yet at the same time, his mind was focused on his mission and the inevitable outcome. When he killed the vampire, all the Ghouls would disintegrate. If the child was still alive, it would be safe. If it was dead and reanimated, it too would dissolve and its soul go to whatever heaven or hell awaited it beyond this mortal realm.

She trudged along, part of his memory self and at the same time her own being. She felt a sense of dread and sorrow, because she already knew the outcome of this memory. He was calm, collected, steadfastly concerned with nothing around him but the location of the target. She felt Integra’s mind at the back of his, the same she once felt his at the back of hers. Integra was furious that the police had let things get this far, she was anxious about the humans that might still be alive, impatient with Alucard for not hurrying things along, and weary from being woken up to go deal with something that shouldn’t have been allowed to escalate to such proportions.

Emerging from the woods, she stopped as Alucard surveyed the village before him. It was nearly silent, save for a few gurgled moans coming from Ghouls stumbling around. The normal sleepiness of the town was gone, and in exchange the quiet was a pensive, tensed feeling. It was like a horror movie, right before the monster jumps out at the main character in the dark.

Suddenly, shots were fired, several times in succession. Then male screams of terror cut through the quiet; it was a jagged sound that went straight to Seras’ heart. She knew exactly what it was. It was poor, poor Simon. Simon, who had always teased her about her height and showed off the picture of his two beautiful boys to anyone who asked. Simon, who always brought his wife’s cooking to the potluck, and who could never be yelled at because he made the captain burst into laughter with his hilarious faces. Simon, who died by having his throat ripped out by something that wasn’t supposed to exist.

True to her thoughts, the glaring odor of fresh blood wafted across the breeze towards them. Alucard thought to himself, a sound that to Seras’ ears was undistinguishable from a prolonged “ _hmmmmm_ ”. Then they started down the hill, keeping close to the trees as Alucard made his way towards the chapel, and the source of the blood and the scream.

There were more gunshots, this time in a spot away from the church. Six, one right after the other in rapid staccato. Seras jerked her head quickly, staring off at a point just inside the tree line. She couldn’t see anything, but the scent on the air told her, and subsequently Alucard, that the vampire had moved quickly. _Chasing_? memory-Alucard mused, turning to head that way, and Seras grew sick to her stomach. That was her, shooting her last few bullets at the vampire as his Ghouls surrounded her.

He walked slowly, with purpose and yet it almost seemed like aimless wandering. Seras grew impatient, wishing he would just hurry up. If he had put some effort into his walking, she might have been saved, and could have gone on with her life! She didn’t feel bitter about it—after all, it had been decades ago, and what happened, happened. But still, she did feel a hint of injustice; did he have to take on everything with such unhurried measure?! Perhaps he had eternity, but there was someone in trouble who _didn’t_ have any more than an hour at most!

One final gunshot startled her, and Alucard stopped. He was close, very close. But he felt the need to watch for a moment, to see what he might be up against. If it was a run of the mill vampire, then it would be over in a few moments. But to take out an entire village in the course of a few days, with no rhyme or reason? He sounded strong enough to be someone Alucard knew personally.

Seras considered this line of thinking as Alucard continued to take the long way around through the woods. Alucard _hated_ vampires who went against the grain and killed willy-nilly. It put more than just the vampire and humans in danger; without method to the killing, the vampire might make another vampire, often by accident. Villages wiped out meant less humans to go around, and it was an unspoken rule that vampires didn’t kill children unless absolutely necessary, and even then it was a case-by-case scenario.

Seras understood all of this—she was a well-grounded girl, and they were logical rules. So she understood the bubble of anger brewing in Alucard’s gut at the thought that this might be an older vampire with many decades or even a century or two under his belt. Still, she didn’t like the mental picture of what Alucard was planning on doing to the vampire, should that be the case. It would be drawn out, gory, and completely enjoyable… to the vampire king, that is. The priest should have been grateful that he didn’t belong in that category!

So they picked their way along, Seras listening in vain for any sign of how things were going in the clearing. She tried to remember, but aside from the horror of her first time seeing Ghouls and the sickening feel of the vampire priest’s hands on her body, and of course the gunshot that ended her life, the rest had blurred into the passage of time until she couldn’t recall what order it had all happened in.

Then, an unholy shriek nearly burst her eardrums. She wanted to clap her hands over her ears, her head ringing at the sound. Good God, was that _her_ screaming like that?! Seras winced, remembering her last desperate bid—the hope that someone would hear her and show up, despite her knowledge that nearly everyone was dead or zombified as Ghouls. Even her own beloved team was nothing more than a bunch of putrefied walking flesh sacks.

She wanted to keep moving on, but Alucard had stopped, for some odd reason. She pushed ahead, but the memory told her that she was supposed to wait. Then Alucard put a hand on his stomach, and she felt what he’d felt. It was her panicked scream—it had caused that strange, inexplicable feeling where your heart drops through every organ you have all at once, leaving you shaking. He’d never felt that before in all his existence.

Was it that he felt her panic, and had somehow sensed her feeling? No, he’d felt other people’s panic before, and he’d never felt this way. Seras stood there while he tried to sort out what exactly had made his body react in such an unusual manner, torn between wondering herself and wishing he would just think about it after he returned home, since she was still in mortal danger.

And then it hit them both like a tidal wave; an even stranger feeling. Seras had never felt _this_ one herself—there was a sudden comprehension that it was a female who screamed, who was still alive (Ghouls never raised their voice beyond a semi-loud moaning), and who he _had_ to get closer to, in order to see more about her. A strange, fierce tugging made it seem like her intestines were going to be pulled out of her navel and she felt extremely uncomfortable. All at once, in a quick progression, Alucard worked through these and then he simply vanished and reappeared on the hill cresting the small clearing.

His appearance made the Ghouls quieten as they stared, jaws gaping vacantly and weapons held loosely in their hands. The vampire noticed the change in the air and servants and half-turned, dropping the figure he was holding to the ground. There was a flash of gold, lit by the moon quickly and then dulling only slightly as the figure rolled to her knees.

Seras stared at herself kneeling on the ground, a look of shocked terror on her face. She saw her brush her bangs out of her eyes and look up the hill at Seras—well, at Alucard. Her eyes widened and became hopeful, then worried as she remembered what the vampire had done to all the others. She felt herself smile widely and step forward a few paces, her gaze turning to the vampire.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” the vampire drawled, face twisting in annoyance. He wasn’t happy to be disturbed.

“Your death,” she replied calmly, grin widening even more. It wasn’t an ancient vampire after all—it was only a fool masquerading as a priest. A charlatan in the worst form. _Well, I’ll take care of this quickly_ , he thought in satisfaction. Seras shivered, suddenly remembering what would come next. She felt everything so far—would she feel her body, his body, being riddled with thousands of bullets? Of course she would; she was remembering it the way _he_ remembered it!

“My death?” the vampire parroted, words laced with amusement. “Oh really? My God…” he chuckled. “This is pathetic.” He laughed slowly, just like an evil villain might. “Kill him,” he ordered with a snap of his fingers. Seras barely had time to tense before the rain of bullets fell upon them.

It hurt, but not as much as it should’ve. After all, she saw his arm go flying this way, his leg go that way, his glasses were shot off, jaw torn, she felt the air on his _ribs_ , as strange as it was…. The pain, while there, was dulled enough that it didn’t particularly bother her. She could see now how he could stand being blown apart day after day. She saw herself gasp in shock, blue eyes widening to enormous standards. She saw the vampire grin, thinking that he had won.

Then, the bullets stopped coming.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” the vampire cackled triumphantly. She was on the ground, looking up at the moon. Her vision blurred a moment before coming back even more sharply, and she felt her powers pull at the blood as if it had a magnetic field. She shouldn’t have been more than a few scraps of flesh, but she felt his body being built back by the blood and dust that his limbs had become.

Like so many insects, the fluids swam, marched, crawled back into his body, fleshing out limbs and even rebuilding his clothing the way he ordered it to. Seras just watched on in awe, feeling nothing like she’d ever felt before. This was alarming… alarming, but amazing.

She stood up, laughing quietly as she saw the look of confusion and fear on the previously-delighted vampire’s face. She glanced quickly at herself again, feeling that still-strange pull. The memory-Seras’ mouth hung open in shock, her eyes showing nothing but disbelief. Seras remembered what she’d been thinking: _People who get shot like that can’t get up again. This man; he’s not human!_ Of course, she’d had no idea how right she’d been.

Pulling out her gun, she noted that for Alucard it suited his purposes well. That was fine with her—she was more than happy with her anti-tank cannons, gaudy as they were. Shooting through the lines of Ghouls, they all began to fall apart.

“No! How can he be killing them!? It’s those bullets!” the priest said, hands held up almost defensively as he looked around in shock at his decimated ranks. Seras noticed her own face held a sort of calm bewilderment, as if the person behind the large blue eyes had long ago stopped believing that this was reality. She remembered vaguely wondering if this was all a horrible, very realistic nightmare.

She felt herself—Alucard—grinning widely, allowing the first round of desecrated Ghouls to hit the ground and dissolve into the dust from whence they came. She looked the vampire priest in the eyes, but half of memory-Alucard’s attention was also focused on the policewoman kneeling a few yards away in the dust.

“The silver cross of Manchester cathedral was melted down to make these thirteen-millimeter exploding shells,” she explained in a calm voice. “Nothing _I_ shoot ever gets back up again.” _Except me_ , she thought absently, cringing at the dark nature of her little joke. The dusty, musty ash of Ghouls spun in the breeze, particles drifting on lazy spirals of air current.

“But why?” the vampire priest asked, baffled beyond all means. “Tell me; why fight to save these pathetic humans?” Seras saw his eyes flit towards her, still kneeling on the ground, and she felt memory-Alucard’s rush of anger. _Who cares, why?_ The thought arose, suddenly, and Seras was shocked by it. _What does it matter, **why** I do it? _

She didn’t answer, but instead considered the questions herself. What did it matter that he saved humans? For all anyone knew, he could have just taken a whim to it. _She_ knew how he felt; the killing of humans needlessly only led to famine for vampires. But silly, stupid weak vampires didn’t need to think about those things; they only needed to obey his laws and live their unlives without a hitch.

She was so busy contemplating his mental processes that she nearly missed her body being taken hostage. She felt Alucard’s smile and knew it was one of cruel, simplistic glee at the futility of the vampire’s situation. The priest was desperate and clawing at every last means of survival, even if it meant the death of an innocent young woman. _Who’s the pathetic one now?_

Seras could only agree.

“Don’t take another step. The girl’s the last survivor; don’t you want to save her?” So now he played with the idea that Alucard was completely helpless to his whims, and the thought of a human dying at his hands would completely ruin him. The ancient vampire cackled inwardly at the priest’s assumption of innocence. That Alucard was some valiant knight come to rescue the damsel in distress. _Idiot. I’ve only come to seal your doom, nothing more._

 _Wow,_ Seras thought sarcastically as she watched on from her strange vantage point. _My hero. You know, you could have at least felt a **little** bad that I might be about to die at the hands of this tosser. _

“Be reasonable! I’m not asking for much…just a bit of help. You can look the other way!” _The nerve of that guy_! Seras was getting more irritated by the minute, but she didn’t know if those were her own feelings, or just the irritation that Alucard had felt. It was probably both—the man was just digging himself deeper with every word and not even noticing. How dense could you be? _You couldn’t even manage to die with dignity!_

“Are you a virgin, my dear?” Even now, all these years later, Seras was caught off guard by those six words. Her memory self blushed and had the sense to look embarrassed and uncomfortable by the entire situation, even while being held hostage in a death grip by a looney coward.

Even now, Seras knew that Alucard enjoyed teasing her with little one liners and calling her “my dear” was just one of them. He knew it flustered her and, for some reason, he enjoyed the hell out of seeing her get cross with him. But she’d never imagined any _real_ affection behind the words, and it surprised her to feel that same weird tugging in his—her—his—stomach as he addressed her.

“What are you doing?” the vampire priest asked warily, one hand still poised to slice open the poor memory-Seras’ throat. Seras saw herself meet his crimson gaze, her big blue eyes shimmering in the moonlight, that eternal halo of golden hair falling around her face and hiding the priests’ from view when the wind shifted.

It was strange, seeing and feeling it from Alucard’s point of view. Her eyes, full of fear and a suppressed hope that he wouldn’t listen to the man holding her against her will; it was her eyes that stirred him so, he knew it, somehow. Seras was completely confused, but she felt as though that might be alright, because memory-Alucard didn’t have a better idea about what was going on, either.

“I’m asking if you’re a virgin,” she replied, talking only to herself and not addressing the priest anymore. He was a dead man anyway, and Alucard didn’t plan on wasting any more time or breath speaking to him.

“But—I—” She saw her own throat move as she stuttered; her beautiful, pale throat arched so delicately against the man’s sleeve, shining pale in the night, the arteries just _begging_ for him to take a bite. She would be delicious, oh so delicious. And her voice… when she wasn’t screaming loud enough to wake the dead, it wasn’t hard on the ears at all.

“Answer me!” he shouted, wanting to hear it. He wanted—no, _needed_ —for her to say yes. For her to accept her death, and him. He needed to know, once and for all, if destiny might play in his favor for once in five hundred years.

“Y-yes! I am!”

That was all he needed to hear. Seras watched in awe as he shot with perfect aim, right through her to hit that priest’s vile heart. The act itself was nothing to him—his mission was finished. But something else, something he’d been wanting for so long, was just beginning. She watched the vampire let her go, a cloud of their combined blood going everywhere, staining the ground with the color of death.

She dropped, eyes clouding; the vampire still held a look of horror and astonishment. He hadn’t expected the man to shoot right through them both, but he had realized Alucard’s plan for the girl and his eyes held the fear and knowledge that his moment had come. That man truly was his death.

Alucard stepped forward as the priest fell, his mind relishing the kill and the closure of a mission completed. His hand ran through the vampire’s chest, staining the glove crimson and making sure the ash was scattered. That priest wouldn’t get up again; after all, he’d just promised that nothing he shot would, and what sort of man would he be if he lied straight after? His powers drank the blood as it turned and then he was spotless once more.

The same couldn’t be said for her. Seras felt a jolt of sadness at seeing herself laid out like that. Was that—was that how she was supposed to have ended? She looked awful. Her uniform was more red than blue, and the ground around her was sticky crimson as well. She lay, moaning softly, staring at the sky with a blank expression.

Seras remembered the dull thud of a pain so great that her mind couldn’t comprehend it. It had hurt, but not as terribly as the thoughts running through her mind at that point. She remembered that she hadn’t wanted to die. That there were so many things she had still wanted in life. She remembered the unfairness, the hatred boiling in her blood for the priest, and for the man that had been supposed to save her. but that had quickly faded away, and what had taken its place? Fear.

She really, _really_ hadn’t wanted to die.

She stepped closer because Alucard did, and felt his detached fascination at the body spread out on the soft grass. The blood continued to flow; he knew that there was always more blood than one thought. The body held _so much_ of it!

“I had to shoot through you to pierce his heart.” Seras felt herself saying the words, accompanied by Alucard’s sense of urgency. It was something he rarely considered, seeing as he lived for centuries, but she was dying and he had to get his offer out before she was completely senseless. He’d tried to take by force the last time, and he’d ended up a slave to a man he hated with a ruthless passion.

_I’ve learned from my mistakes. This time, the choice must be hers._

“I’m sorry, but you’re dying and there’s no time left. The choice is yours; what do you want to do?” _Gee, a thousand better ways you could have phrased that_ , she thought with a sigh. Honestly, he could have just as easily said “I think I like you. Would you like to be a vampire?” and she’d still have probably said yes. She looked back down at herself and tried to remember what had been going through her mind at the time.

Her hand rose towards him, her eyes begging for him to stay with her, and Seras remembered; she didn’t want to be alone. She’d been alone all her life, from the time her parents died. She’d been alone in the orphanage, at the academy, on the force. What sort of cruel world was it that dictated that she had to die alone too? What had she done to deserve such a life, such a _death_!?

Her lips moved, but no sound issued forth. Her hand still clawed, the last of her strength moving towards the light of the moon as tears began to flow from her. She felt immense pity for her poor, broken self lying there alone, but she wasn’t alone, because Alucard hadn’t left her. She didn’t verbally concede to his unspoken offer, but her eyes answered for her as she managed to focus on him one last time.

He caught her hand, feeling the energy ebb from her unclenched fingers and watching her with a smile. So, for the first time, he had won. He’d gotten what he wanted, van Helsing be damned. _All of them_ be damned! They tried to stop him, a hundred years ago, but all they did was slow him down.

This girl, this girl who had chosen her own fate, would be something else, in a league all her own, powerful and amazing. The world would kneel before her, tremble at the mention of her name, whatever it was. He could just see it now, this little beauty, this little… _police girl_.

“Police Girl,” he repeated aloud, trying out the name and finding that it suited her just fine. Better than fine, actually. He couldn’t imagine her being anything else. Seras smiled at the thought, realizing why he continued to call her that after all these years. She, the police girl, was a reminder that he’d finally managed to triumph over the men who would have killed him, if their own curiosity hadn’t gotten in the way.

“Tonight is truly a beautiful night.” Her eyes fluttered closed and he leaned in, licking his lips as he picked her up off the ground and exposed her throat. Seras swallowed hard—his thirst made her own throat dry. His lips parted and his fangs sank into her throat, the phantom feeling of it playing both on her fangs, and her own throat. She closed her eyes against it and then opened them to see that she was looking at herself in the mirror of her bedroom.

“W-what?” She blinked and rubbed her eyes, the memory still fresh in her mind. “It’s—over.”

“It is over.” She twisted in the chair to see Alucard still watching her, his back against the wall as he reclined on the mattress. “What do you think?”

“You’re right,” she said after a moment, running a hand through her short tresses. “My hair was quite noticeable. I’m not surprised you remember it that way.” He smirked, knowing that she was beating around the bush.

“Was that all?” She shrugged and he moved forward, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring intently at her. “ _Police Girl_.” She looked at him, a blush staining her cheeks and she huffed.

“What? So you like it when I let you call me Police Girl. Big whoop—if you remember, I let Integra call me that too. I even think Walter did it on—ah!” He cut her off and tugged her out of her chair, forcing her into his lap. She made a bigger show of trying to escape than actually trying, finally acquiescing with another drawn out sigh.

“It meant nothing to them,” he murmured against her skin, lips against her throat. “But to me, it means more.” She smiled and shifted in his arms, getting comfortable. _I could get used to this…._

“Does it surprise you that I don’t remember that at all?” she asked him, leaning against him with a lazy yawn. Killing vampire priests in her mind made her a little weary. Perhaps he’d consider lying down with her for a bit… not doing anything, of course—she wasn’t a pervert. But he’d manage to take it farther anyway, and she’d probably let him, because even after all this time she wasn’t really regretting making that decision.

“No, actually,” he replied, one hand moving dangerously far up her thigh before she forced it back with her own. “I got your memories when I drank your blood that night. naturally, that memory was still fresh in your mind, and it was rather amusing to see how you felt about the entire thing.”

“Me dying amused you?”

“The fact that you thought me to be a handsome lunatic did.” He smirked, his tongue running out to lick over her pulse teasingly. “Admit it; you thought I was a monster.”

“I knew you were. I—” What she meant to say was cut off by her bedroom door opening. The young Sir Penwood started in, and then his face blanched at the sight of them on her bed. His mouth opened at the sight of her perched on the ancient vampire’s lap, and she didn’t have to look down to know that Alucard was glaring at the poor boy with a murderous intent.

“I’m interrupting something,” Sir Penwood managed to get out, his cheeks flushing as he winced and looked away. “I apologize; I’ll just—”

“Gregory,” Seras called him back and he refused to look at her, his cheeks still tinged pink. “What is it?”

“Well, Sir Irons wanted me to send you off on this mission and…” he faltered, mouth stretching in a mortified frown. “I _am_ sorry; if I knew you were busy I’d not have—”

“Gregory, I don’t care,” Seras replied bluntly, making Alucard let her go so that she could walk over and take the dossier from the poor boy. “And next time, _knock_.” She shoved him out the door and shut it, clucking as she opened the file. “Well, it looks like we have an interesting one tonight,” she said as she read over the contents. “Five dead, eight presumed so, being chased down the highway outside of Kent.”

“Well, I suppose we should get started,” Alucard said with a frown, clearly still angry at being interrupted. Seras rolled her eyes and summoned her powers, motioning with one hand.

“After you,” she said playfully, and they both vanished, leaving only a few strands of golden hair floating neatly to the ground in its owner’s wake.


End file.
